


Forever

by MacandLacy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: ??John, Gen, John seriously has a LOT to deal with, Magic, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Spirits, semi-deamon!Roger, semi-demon!Brian, semi-demon!Freddie, semi-demons but not evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 01:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/pseuds/MacandLacy
Summary: When your three best friends turn out to be much more than what they appear to be.“Couldn’t find any demon bassists?” John sneered.Please see tags for more info.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Violence and attempted assault in this first part, but hopefully not too graphic. Do please be mindful if attempted assault can be a trigger for you. Please be assured that all is well at the end!
> 
> Setting: Vague 1976. Change to Queen timeline: Queen became successful right from the beginning and have already toured the world. No hepatitis for Brian, and everything is going great. Everyone is single and not in any committed relationships. 
> 
> Not betaed…mistakes are all mine.
> 
> Please see end notes.

Part One

Growing up, John had never thought of himself as particularly lucky, but the past few years had certainly made him rethink that notion. He was 25 years old and in a famous rock band. True, he was the youngest member, and relied a lot on his older band mates, but he knew he was a valued part of the group. All their albums were hits and they had toured the world. Sometimes he just about pinched himself, trying to understand the wild ride his life had been the past 6 years.

Not exactly what he had suspected when he started university as a shy electrical engineering student. But a chance meeting in a bar had introduced him to Roger, they started talking percussion, and the next thing he knew, he was auditioning for three of the most powerful and strong personalities that he had ever encountered. Brian, usually quiet and calm, had a strength that John admired. Where Roger was loud and brash, Brian was calm and steady, but you never underestimated him. And then there was Freddie, who was Freddie Fucking Mercury. Enough said.

John really wondered at times what the other three saw in him, but they all seemed to have a way of knowing when their youngest member was having doubt, and they all encouraged him. Brian and Roger called him their ‘little brother’ and teased him, but were always there for him, and Freddie was protective beyond belief. 

Freddie had made it clear from the start John was under his guidance. He checked on John even when not in the studio or performing, sometimes even walking John to and from classes at the university until he had his degree. Brian had encouraged John to finish his degree even as the band became successful and the older man had worked on his doctorate at the same time. John had blushed at the attention from the older man at first, not certain what to make of it, but he had gotten used to Freddie’s protective ways. 

Freddie didn’t flaunt it, but neither did he hide that enjoyed the company of both sexes. John had nothing against that, but did sometimes wonder if Freddie was flirting with him. The light but constant touches, the endearments that Freddie didn’t bestow on Brian or Roger made John curious. In the early days they had been roommates when on tour, and John didn’t object, liking having Freddie near him. While Freddie was always a perfect gentleman, John sometimes could feel the singer looking at him. Never inappropriately, but still enough to make the bassist wonder. But Freddie would always smile, hug John after a good performance or studio session or bloody press conference, and then cheerfully go off with whoever had caught his eye. John finally decided he was reading too much into the situation.

So, John really didn’t much of a care in the world as he finished packing up his bass. They’d had short gig at a local pub just to get them out of the studio for a nice live session, and it had gone well. It had been a quiet, private performance as a favor for the pub manager, and they didn’t have any of the usual crew or entourage with them, which John personally thought was rather nice. It was good to be just the four of them again and no one minded packing up their own gear, joking and smiling. 

Freddie was chatting with the management, and John wanted to check on a bass string before it was packed, so Brian and Roger took some things out to the car, promising to hurry back. John saw no reason for their concern, just waving them off and promising that he would stay where he was in the dressing room area of the venue. It was nice and quiet in the small room, and he could work for a few minutes in peace.

He was so engrossed in the strings that he barely registered the opening of the door behind him, and assumed it was Brian or Roger. It wasn’t until a strange voice spoke that he looked up from the amp.

“Well, what have we here?” John turned, and found himself suddenly facing two large men. Even a few feet away, John could smell the alcohol from their breath and clothing, and he instinctively swallowed nervously. 

“So what are you doing here, pretty?” one of the men said, eyeing John in a manner that did not bode well.

John had long hair, was in a glam rock band, and it was not the first time he had faced harassment from idiots who took exception to the band’s appearance. It was however, the first time he had faced it alone in a bar or venue; Brian, Roger or Freddie tended to stick to his side during performances, and John had always appreciated it. Now, he frowned, a bit intimidated, but not yet really concerned.

“Just packing up,” he said evenly. He turned back to the equipment, hoping they would leave well enough alone.

It was a vain hope. “Don’t turn your back on me, bitch,” one of the men snarled, and John turned back to face them, holding up a hand.

“I am on my way out,” he said calmly. “No need for any trouble.” 

“Oh trouble isn’t what we’re looking for; it’s you.” John felt a knot settle in his stomach. “Been watching you all night, lovely, but you always have one of your fuck mates with you. Lucky us to catch you alone.”

John took a sharp breath. “My friends will be back any second,” he warned. 

The smaller of the men made a show of locking the heavy door; John could see him throwing the deadbolt. “Well, we won’t need that long, sweetie, and they can just wait,’ he slurred.

John was starting to panic. These morons were clearly drunk beyond reason and much larger than he was. John had never actually been in what he would call a fight; Roger was happy to throw himself into any brawls that happened when they played venues or were out for the night. Still, he wasn’t a total idiot or helpless and wrapped his hand around the strap of his bass case.

“Look,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “Don’t be fools. My friends will be back any second and they knew I’m in here—“

The larger of the men lunged forward, clearly done with talking, and John swung his case. It made contact with the man’s chest, knocking him back. Unfortunately, the strap also tanged around John’s hand and the weight and momentum of the case pulled him forward, throwing him off balance. The second man, meanwhile, grabbed hold of John.

“Bitch!” he swore, smacking John across the face. John slammed against the wall, tasting blood in his mouth, and saw the first man pull out a knife. 

“Try that again, and your pretty face will be no more,” he snarled. He slashed the knife and John felt it cut across his right arm that bassist automatically threw up in self-defense, hissing in shock and pain. John was pinned against the wall, two sets of hands on him, tearing at his clothes. He kicked, fighting with all he had, refusing to go down without a struggle. Roger had showed him a few tricks one drunk evening, and he managed to get in a good kick before he was slapped again and his head hit the wall.

And then the hands were gone; the men pulled away from him so violently that John was pulled forward as well for a moment until their hands released his clothing. He fell to his hands and knees, and shook his head, looking up in shock, trying to focus.

Freddie. Freddie was standing a few feet away, one hand around each of the men’s throats, holding them effortlessly. John was still on his hands and knees, but it seemed that Freddie was somehow *bigger*, taller. The men were struggling, but Freddie was motionless, standing perfectly still, only his head turning as he looked at each of the men that he held in his hands.

“—kill you very slowly,” John heard Freddie say, and John had never heard that tone from Freddie before. It was so calm, it was terrifying. “How dare you touch what is mine!”

John might have said something, but from his place on the ground, something shocking had just registered and he froze. The men’s feet were not touching the floor. Freddie was holding each of the huge men at least 2-3 feet in the air and the singer was not showing any effort at all. John looked up at Freddie, and gasped.

Freddie’s eyes were red. A deep blazing red that held a fire in them.

“You will pay for what you have done,” Freddie said to the men, his voice still dangerously calm. “I will see to it personally. You are marked as mine to deal with as I please.”

There was a rush of air, and the men flew in opposite directions, slammed against the walls and crumpling to the ground. Freddie took one breath and looked down at John.

John could only stare in horror. He managed to tear his gaze from away Freddie for a moment and another frightening thing registered in his mind – the door was still closed. John had seen the deadbolt fastened. How had Freddie gotten through the locked door?

“John, darling,” that voice made John look back at Freddie and the bassist instinctively moved, scrambling back against the wall, as far away as possible. “Don’t be afraid. Come to me.” Freddie held out a hand to the younger man.

No. Freddie’s eyes were still red.

He may have said something aloud, because Freddie blinked, and his eyes turned back to their dark brown. It didn’t matter though; John frantically looked around, and the knife that had been used on him was lying nearby. Without conscious thought, John picked it up and shakily held it up between himself and Freddie.

“S-stay away,” he stammered, terrified. He couldn’t think, couldn’t understand what had happened. None of it made any sense. What in God’s name had just happened? How had Freddie come though the locked door? How had he effortlessly picked up two giant men?

Freddie tilted his head, an odd expression on his face. “John, my love. Put that down before you hurt yourself.”

Against his will, John opened his hand, and the knife fell back to the ground. He gaped at it, unable to comprehend anything. He tried to pick it back up, but his hand refused to touch it.

There was a sensation of something again like wind, making John look up, and now Brian and Roger were in the room, standing behind Freddie. All John knew was that door was still closed and locked.

“You were supposed to stay with him,” Freddie said to the other two, his voice back to the deadly tone. John’s gaze went to his other friends and he bit his lip until it was bloody, seeing that their eyes were also red.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, his voice soft, offering no defense.

“It was just a minute,” Roger tried, but Freddie snarled, looking at the drummer.

“Long enough for this to happen,” the singer snapped and Roger lowered his head. Freddie turned his attention back to John, and the youngest man felt panic rise even further. He didn’t want any of them near him.

Freddie took a step forward and John uselessly tried to press himself further into the wall.

“John, darling, you don’t need to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you,” Freddie said, his voice back to its usual tenderness. 

“Get away!” John tried to grab the knife again, but his hand still wouldn’t allow him to pick it up. He looked to the side, desperately looking for another weapon and when he turned his head back Freddie was suddenly kneeling beside him, his knees pressing up against John’s legs. John drew in breath to scream, but Freddie laid a hand on his head.

“Sleep,” Freddie whispered, and John knew no more.

*****  
*****

John woke up with a start. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was his unusually good memory, but the minute he opened his eyes, he remembered what had happened. He sat up, gasping, his eyes wide as he took in his surroundings.

He was in a huge bed, in a room he had never seen before. Hastily, he scrambled out of the bed, realizing in the process that he was dressed in soft pajamas that were also unfamiliar. Nervously, his heart pounding, he looked around the large room, trying to understand what was happening. It hadn’t been a dream, and this wasn’t a dream either. There were windows on either side of the bed and he quickly went to them, hoping for a clue of where he was, but all he could see was open country and trees, no sign of other houses or even roads. There was a balcony but the French doors were locked and he pounded on them angrily for a second.

Turning, he sat back on the bed, head in his hands, trying to process what he had seen, trying to find a logical explanation. Freddie had somehow come through a locked door – he had heard and seen the deadbolt fastened – and stopped the men who had been attacking him. He had picked them up by their throats, holding them in the air, displaying an inhuman strength.

And his eyes….John knew he had been in shock, and scared, but he did not doubt his memory or what he had seen. Freddie’s eyes had been red with fury. Then Brian and Roger had appeared through the same locked door, and their eyes….

John staggered to the ensuite bathroom and threw up.

What in God’s name was happening? What *were* his three best friends?

Once he had thrown up all he could, he splashed water on his face, starring at his pale reflection as he leaned on the sink. He remembered being hit, tasting the blood, but there was no sign of any injuries on his face. He pulled up the sleeve of the pajama top, and his arm was clear was well, no evidence that he had been cut. None of this made any sense at all. It simply could not be.

But he knew what he had seen.

Checking where the cut should have been in his arm made John stare at the strange pajamas. He had been undressed from his stage costume and that was almost as unnerving as everything else. Feeling vulnerable, he went to the large wardrobe in the bedroom and was relieved to find normal clothing. None of it was familiar, but oddly it all fit, even the shoes, and the style was similar to what he would pick for himself, making him even more nervous as he thought it over. John did not typically believe in coincidences, and this was all too strange to be chance.

Wherever he was, it had been planned.

Fully dressed, he eyed the door nervously for a few minutes, wondering if it would open, and wondering if he wanted it to open. Curiosity and determination eventually won out, and he cautiously turned the handle. The heavy door opened silently, and he stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to get his bearings. There was a small landing and an open door showed another smaller bedroom across from where he had awoken. The only other thing was a long staircase down to the main floor. He debated again, and then slowly started down the stairs.

He had taken just a few steps when a sound made him stop. Piano music, the tune that Freddie had been working on in the studio.

Oh God, Freddie.

Part of him wanted to turn and run back up the stairs, but he made himself continue, fighting to keep his breathing steady. Whatever had happened, he wanted answers. And if they could only come from Freddie, then he would confront Freddie.

Whatever he was.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw a spacious living area to one side and a kitchen to the other. There was a front door across from the staircase, and he automatically tried the handle, finding it locked. The faint jiggling sound obviously reached the other occupant of the living room.

“The outside doors won’t open, darling,” Freddie said, finishing the song and sounding a touch apologetic. “It’s for your own safety.”

John stiffened, trying to keep his calm. He almost said something, but couldn’t trust his voice quite yet. Freddie turned around on the piano bench, and smiled, looking so perfectly normal, and for a second John thought it could have been the day before, before all this had happened. But he knew differently. 

Freddie stood and calmly walked toward him. John found himself backing up until his back was pressed against the door. Freddie stopped a careful distance from him, clearly aware of his discomfort.

“How about a cup of tea? And I made your favorite breakfast.” Freddie was acting as if it were any other day. John just shook his head.

“You need to eat, darling,” Freddie said, his tone was still mild, but he frowned a little at John’s refusal.

“No,” and John was amazed at how even his voice was. “I need answers.” Freddie nodded at his words.

“And answers you deserve,” he agreed. “Come now, dear, let’s take this to the kitchen, shall we?” Freddie walked past him into the kitchen. John stayed where he was for a moment, and then slowly followed, keeping a cautious distance from the singer.

Freddie poured them both cups of tea and put a plate of food on the counter. John ignored them, his eyes fixed on the….whatever Freddie was.

“What you are?” John was almost surprised to hear his own voice. He had never been frightened around Freddie, but this was no longer the Freddie that he had known for five years.

Freddie looked up, amusement in his eyes. “You mean besides an amazing singer and artist?” John swallowed hard, his mind racing, but still keeping to what he knew was true.

“You – all three of you – came through a locked door. You held two men up by their throats and threw them across the room. Your…your eyes were red.” John’s voice was shaking by the end just stating the facts.

“All very accurate,” Freddie agreed. He was relaxed, smiling, and clearly not at all bothered. He almost seemed pleased at John’s assessment. “What do you think I am?”

John shook his head, part of his mind still refusing to consider what he knew had to be accepted. 

“No human could have done what you did,” he finally said. It was all he could admit and say at the moment.

“True,” Freddie acknowledged. He sipped his tea and pointedly pushed the plate of food closer to John, who still ignored it.

“Then what are you?” John repeated, very carefully, terrified of the answer, but needing to know the truth.

“You know of assorted legends and myths, John. Elves, witches, goblins, all sorts of magical folk; the truth is that all of these creatures actually do exist. The world has much more in it than just humans.” Freddie smiled at the young man. “I would best be characterized as a spirit, a very old creature.”

“A demon?” John’s voice wavered at the word.

Freddie considered a moment. “Perhaps a very minor sort of demon, as are Brian and Roger, but not a demon from Hell. We are of this Earth, Deaky.”

John shook his head. “If you are what you say you are, why are you here? How can you be….demons on Earth?” he challenged. John felt it was surreal. 

“Most of the spirit folk live on Earth, among humans. And not all demons are necessarily evil; some are good, just as some humans are good and some are evil. We are what we appear to be, John; musicians.”

“Right, of course, demons playing rock music.” John felt hysteria building, his breathing ragged. 

“Proving some folks absolutely correct; that maybe the road to Hell is paved with rock and roll records,” Freddie said almost gleefully. He actually chuckled. 

John balled his hands into fists, pressing against his forehead. “Damn it, Freddie, this isn’t funn—” he broke off, terrified, and clapped his hands over his mouth instead, his eyes wide. It had been so automatic, so natural, to talk back, to bicker with Freddie. But that was the Freddie he had known yesterday. Today, this was something different, something that John’s mind could barely accept.

“John,” the laughter was gone from Freddie’s voice, his tone soft. “Don’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.” He reached out a hand, and John took a frantic step back. Freddie paused and then took his own step backward and held up his hands, palms up, in a placating gesture. “I swear, John, you have nothing to fear from me.”

The bassist shook his head, not believing the words. “Where are we?” he managed to demand.

“A place I own in the country. I thought it best to come here for a time.”

“Why?”

The so-familiar dark eyes regarded John with what the bassist would have called kindness before. Now, he didn’t know what to call anything. “You were hurt, and have a lot to…..absorb. I think this is better done in a quiet place, yes? Away from distractions.”

Mention of him being hurt made John look down at his arm. “I was cut,” he remembered.

‘Yes. Brian healed you.”

Brian. The most gentle, kind-hearted person John had the privilege of knowing. “A demon.” John staggered a little, his vision getting blurry for second. It wasn’t just Freddie, it was Brian and Roger as well. His mind was trying to accept that his three best friends in the world were…..not of this world.

“We are not really demons, John. But we are truly your *friends*, John,” Freddie emphasized. “First and foremost, and always. Your friends.”

“No!” John looked up, his eyes fierce. “You are not my friends!”

“But we are,” Freddie insisted softly. 

No, it was impossible. John rubbed his face with his hands, trying and failing to make sense of everything. 

“I want to go home,” was all John could say, knowing he sounded like a child, but he didn’t care.

Freddie shook his head. “This is home for now, Deaky. Until you have acclimated to some things.”

“Why?” John snapped. “What do you want from me?”

Freddie tilted his head again in thought. “Simply for you to have time to adjust to all this. You are our friend, a member of Queen. And all that entails.”

“What do you mean?” John had a flash of memory, of what Freddie had said. “You said I was yours”.

“You have been since you joined Queen.”

John remembered day in the university music room, auditioning and being asked formally to join Queen. He had said yes.

“I agreed to join a music band; nothing else.”

“You agreed to join *us*,” Freddie corrected. John narrowed his eyes, trying to remember the exact words. Freddie had extended his hand and asked John to join ‘them’.”

“I didn’t…..” he swallowed. “I didn’t sell my soul or let you lay claim to it.” A phrase popped into his head. “And I didn’t join any witch’s coven.”

“No, you didn’t,” Freddie agreed. “But I can and do lay claim to you, John, as a friend, as my Human.”

“I won’t let you!”

Freddie shook his head and in a blink of an eye, he was in front of John. “You already have,” he said gently.

“No!” John frantically shoved, and Freddie allowed John to move.

John raced in a blind panic, trying every door and finding them all closed to him. In desperation he fled upstairs and back into the bedroom he had awoke in. He slammed the door shut, realizing to his horror that there was no lock.

Not that it would matter.

He fell to the floor, his back against the door, gasping for breath and pulling at his hair.

There was a low chuckle and John jumped, his eyes frantically looking around the room. Thankfully, there was no sign of Freddie, just his voice on the other side of the door. “I grant you this sanctuary, John. I will not enter without your permission,” Freddie said softly, his voice still carrying. 

John blindly slammed his fists against the door. “Go away!” he screamed. Silence met his cry and he slumped back to the floor.

*********************************************************************  
*********************************************************************  
*********************************************************************

Part Two

Freddie kept his promise and while he came to the door several times that day and knocked, he did not enter. John didn’t respond to anything Freddie said, biting his lip to keep from speaking, refusing to answer. The bassist huddled on the bed, knees to his chest, trying and failing to reconcile himself to what he knew deep down was the truth.

“John.” The young man looked up in shock as the door opened. It was evening now, and John sat up on the bed, terrified as he saw Freddie in the doorway with a tray. “I will keep my word and not enter, but I will also not let you hurt yourself. You need to eat,” the singer said sternly. John ignored him as Freddie sat the tray on the floor. “Deaky—”

John grabbed the nearest object – a clock – and threw it randomly in the direction of the door, not caring what it hit. It was childish, and he couldn’t care less. The door closed, leaving John with his anguished thoughts.

Despite his turmoil, he somehow fell asleep during the night, and was awakened by the sound of the door opening early the next morning. This time it was Brian and Roger who walked in, Roger carrying a tray. John’s eyes went wide at the sight of the two people that a few days ago he would have called his best friends. Now he didn’t know what they were.

“Get out!” he snapped with as much force as he could muster, trying to scramble off the bed. But Brian was suddenly looming over him, lying a large, gentle hand on his shoulder, and all physical fight left the bassist. 

“No,” Roger said calmly as he put the tray of food on the bed.

“Fr—” John bit his lip, not wanting to say his name. “He said he would leave me alone here.”

“Freddie gave his word that he would not enter. He said nothing about Roger or I, and we are not bound by his word,” Brian corrected. “You need to eat, Deaky.”

“Fuck off.” John tried to get away again but Brian ran his hand gently through John’s hair, and an unnatural calmness settled over the younger man. 

“You are going to eat. And we’re not leaving until you do,” Roger said.

“Piss off, minions,” John tried, still struggling, but against his will, his right hand was accepting the fork that Roger handed him.

“You have to try better, mate,” Roger said, almost cheerfully. “You know we’ve been called far worse by the tabloids. 

“You can go to—“ John cut himself off. Go where…to Hell? Back where they came from?

Brian cleared his throat, his hand still stroking John’s long hair as he sat beside him on the edge of the bed. The bassist wanted to shrug off the touch, but found he was unable to do. “Just eat, Deaky,” Brian said quietly. “Eat, and then we can talk.” John found himself obeying, and added another frightening item to his mental list: he apparently could be physically controlled.

Brian and Roger were silent as John ate, giving him some peace. Roger went to the French doors and they opened for him so he could have a smoke while Brian stayed beside John, keeping a light touch on his hair.

“Stop touching me,” John snarled.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to eat?” he asked.

John narrowed his eyes. “You have to be touching me, don’t you, to make me do something,” he realized.

Brian tilted his head, acknowledging John’s conclusion. “Yes,” he admitted. “If I stop, will you keep eating?”

John starred down at his hands. “Yes,” he finally said. Brian immediately moved away a bit, giving John some space. The younger man wanted nothing more than to throw the entire tray at the wall, but he forced himself to keep picking at the food even though everything tasted like dust.

“John,” Brian looked so sad that John almost felt bad for a second. “I’m so sorry about what happened at the venue. One of us was supposed to stay with you. We felt something was off, but never thought anyone would try to attack you.”

“Freddie torn us each a new one, and it was well deserved,” Roger admitted, coming in from the balcony. “I’m sorry, mate. We fucked up royally.”

John opened his mouth to automatically say it was okay, and then stopped himself. What could he say? He had been attacked, but thank goodness that three demons had stopped it?

“Hey,” Roger said, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s a gorgeous day. Why don’t we get outside for a bit? No point in moping in here anymore.”

“Oh, so I can go outside now?” John asked bitterly, remembering Freddie’s words about the outside doors.

“With us, yes.” Brian said softly. “Come on, John. It will do you some good. Let’s go have a talk.” He paused, considering. “Freddie isn’t here, if that’s something you’re worried about. It’s just us.”

He wanted to refuse, wanted to scream, but even with everything that had happened, John’s mind was still calm and logical. Now that some of the initial shock had worn off, he was objective enough to know that he needed more answers. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed as he got up, refusing the hand that Brian offered. Brian stepped back, palms up, clearly giving John space.

They went downstairs, and John didn’t miss the fact that Brian and Roger kept John in between them. As if trying to run away would succeed, he reflected angrily. The doors opened for Brian and they went out onto a small patio area, sitting in some chairs. Roger brought out a pot of coffee and cups, and pointedly put down a glass of orange juice in front of John. The bassist ignored it and the other beings, staring straight ahead, prepared to be as stubborn as ever.

Brian cleared his throat. “Perhaps, it might be best if we try to explain some things, and then we can answer any questions?” John didn’t respond. “Right so, the world – and life – is much older than science understands. And there are all sorts of forms of life that are beyond what people usually accept or acknowledge. Humans are not the only forms of higher life on the planet.”

“Almost all of the assorted legends of mythical beings – elves, goblins, giants, little folk, fairies, all of these do exist,” Roger put in. “Hell, even vampires and werewolves.”

“And demons,” John added flatly.

Brian nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, well, then that explains everything and makes me feel ever so much better,” John bit out.

“Freddie told us what he managed to explain to you yesterday,” Roger said. Both he and Brian noticed how John flinched at the mention of the older being. “We are not from Hell. Yes, there are demons who reside there, and sometime walk the earth, but we are not among them. Our kind is different.”

“Spirits is a closer description,” Brian offered. “Magical. We are immortal, like demons, but we are not evil, John.”

“We don’t take lives or souls, none of that shit,” Roger said. 

John slammed his hand down on the table. “I heard what Freddie said,” he snapped. “He said he was going to kill those men.”

“He didn’t,” Brian hastily said. “Freddie is….a little bit different from Roger and I. Older and more powerful. But he didn’t kill them. He will make sure they pay for what they did, but he won’t take a human life.”

“He also said he laid claim to me. What the Hell does that mean?”

Brian and Roger exchanged glances. “You are under his protection. You always have been,” Roger started. “Its not a bad thing, Deaky. Freddie has always cared for you, just like we do. He is just more protective. That’s why he was so angry that we left you alone the other night. He expects us to protect you.”

“Why?” John demanded. “Can’t find any demon bassists?” he sneered.

“Deaky,” Roger was starting to look rather pissed. “We choose you, you bloody idiot, because you are an amazing player and an amazing person. And having known literally countless people, I know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

John stood up and began pacing around the small patio. Roger and Brian rose to their feet, obviously ready if John tried to run. It just made the bassist run his hands through his hair as he contemplated how pointless that would be.

“So you expect me to believe that you three decided to live among humans and start a rock band?”

“Why not?” Roger said. “We live countless lives. In this life, we are what we appear to be; musicians. And we picked you to join us because you were – and still are – the best fit for the band.”

“Have the past six years all been some damn lie?” John snapped. “Using magic to sell records? Using magic to make me join your damn band for some fucking reason?”

“No,” Brian said flatly. “I admit, Freddie may have influenced some record executives at the beginning, but none of the music has been magically touched, and we don’t tend to interfere with human lives.”

John had to laugh. “You sure as fuck have interfered with mine!”

“Not against your will!” Roger yelled. “Yeah, we picked you because you were the best bassist for the band and a terrific person. So sue us! We have feelings, emotions, just like humans do, Deaky, and you’re part of our family now. We asked you to join us and you did, and it’s been amazing. You are one of the four vital elements of Queen, and no one can replace you.”

“So you just decided to come to Earth and spend a few years playing music? Nothing better to do?” John shouted back.

“And what if we did?” Roger and John were going head-to-toe, something that rarely happened. “Here, right here, right now, in these bodies, this is what we are. I have a fucking temper and am addicted to cigarettes. Brian is a vegetarian and cries at pictures of hurt hedgehogs. Freddie is all over the place and no one can control him. And you---“ Roger jabbed his finger at the younger being, but John stood strong. “You are the most amazing and talented bassist we have ever heard. Nothing with Queen is a lie. We did go through seven fucking bassists before you came in the door! We sell records because we are an amazing fucking band and work our assess off! You built the amp’s that made our sound possible. It’s all you Deaky, and no magic involved, if you can just get that through your thick head!”

“Oh yes, of course I believe you,” John snapped. “Why ever wouldn’t I?”

“Because if you just open your damn eyes, you’ll see that we’re telling you the truth!”

John kicked a chair, his temper rivaling Roger’s. “You have no right to talk to me about the truth!” He was starting to feel lightheaded, but pushed on. “You think I’m going to just shrug and say oh well, of course it all makes perfect sense now? That my entire adult life has been a lie as part of some game for you?”

“Nothing about Queen is a lie or game, you tosser! It’s the most honest thing in our entire existence!”

“Honest? Do you even know what that is?” John staggered a little, his emotions starting to overtake him. 

“I wanted to tell you—"

“Roger!” Brian stepped between them, his eyes dark, but thankfully not red, John noticed in a dissociated manner. “Calm down right now. This isn’t the time—”

“Time? When was time?” Roger suddenly turned on Brian and John had to take a step back from the two other beings. “You and Freddie think you know everything, but how long do you think we could have kept this up? If John is what Freddie says he is, then how long until he would have found out anyway? What’s the fucking point now—”

“Stop!” John screamed. He couldn’t take it anymore. He hands went to his head, pulling at his hair. “Stop it! Just stop it all!” he shouted. He stumbled and started to fall over a chair. Immediately two sets of hands were on him and for a second he was back in the dressing room and it all blurred together. “No!” he screamed. “Let go of me!” He lashed out blindly, kicking and hitting.

“Shit! Deaky! Deaky!” Warm arms wrapped around him, and guided him to a chair. John was shaking violently, his mind still wanting to fight, but his body defeated him and he sagged against the bodies that caught and held him protectively. “John, just breath, mate, just breath, it’s okay.” He had no idea who was talking now, and didn’t care. His hands went up to cover his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out everything around him.

“Deaky, look at me, come on.” It was Roger, his voice loud but calm now and close enough that John could still hear him. “Deep breaths, come on, just breath, okay?” John opened his eyes and glared at the drummer, still shaking, rocking back and forth, his hands over his ears. Brian seemed to be behind him, hands running through his hair and rubbing his shoulders.

“Come on, mate,” Roger encouraged, kneeling on the ground in front of him, his hands on John’s knees. “I know your pissed, and you have every right to be. Just try to calm down, okay?” The wide blue eyes that were so familiar to John were clear with worry, Roger looking honestly frantic. “Fuck, I am so sorry I yelled at you, Deaky. Please don’t be afraid of us; we would never hurt you.”

John balled his hands into fists, now pressing against his forehead. “Don’t touch me,” he seethed. There was a pause, and Roger backed away a bit, his hands raised slightly so John could see he was doing as he demanded. Brian came around in front to crouch beside Roger so John could see him.

“What’s going on?”

Shit. Now Freddie was back, and John was facing three….whatever they were.

“He’s alright, Freddie,” Brian said quickly.

“Fuck!” Roger stood up and yelled something in a language that John didn’t understand. Then Freddie answered in the same language, and John felt hysterical laughter build up; it was as if they were in the recording studio and they were arguing. But this was so different. Without realizing it, John closed his eyes and covered his ears again, not able to handle this anymore. It was all too much and he felt on the verge of passing out, struggling to breathe. 

“John, its alright, come back to me, come on, buddy, it’s alright.” John slowly became aware of Brian’s voice, calm and steady. “Its okay, you’re okay.” John shook his head, still trying to block everything out. “No, open your eyes Deaky, come on, look at me. It’s alright. You’re safe. It’s just you and me.” Brian kept talking calmly, and slowly John started to respond.

“Just deep breath, in….and out. Come on, breathe with me; in….and out. Again.” Almost against his will, John followed the directions. He opened his eyes and even in his mild hysteria noted that Brian had his hands on John’s knees and he raised his eyes to glare at the guitarist. 

“Yeah, I’m touching you,” Brian said, as if reading his mind. “I’m not interfering with your thoughts or anything like that; just trying to get you to breathe before you pass out. Come on, Deaky, just breathe, that’s all I’m asking.”

For a few minutes, John kept his staring contest with the taller being, but either by choice or by force, he calmed down, his breathing becoming steadier. He shifted back, and Brian took the hint to remove his hands and take a chair a few feet away, giving John space. 

It took a while, but John slowly regained his control, his fists still clenched but steadying his breathing. Brian was watching him intently, but made no move to touch him and kept a distance. John slowly lowered his hands from his ears and his eyes flickered around the garden area. There was no sign of Freddie or Roger and the only sound was the pounding of John’s heart as he slowly regained his calm.

“Where--?”

“I told them to take their argument elsewhere” Brian said evenly, a faint tone of disgust in his voice. “The usual, they talk a good game about being calm and rational, and then they both explode. Told them to get lost for a while.”

Despite himself, John managed a small smile at the so-familiar situation; how many times had Brian and John left Roger and Freddie to scream at each other? It was beyond count. Of course there were a good amount of times when Brian was one of those yelling, but usually it was the two guitar players who excused themselves and let the drummer and singer have their fights.

And it was easier to talk to Brian, no matter the subject. Even this.

Brian seemed to understand that John needed some quiet and all he did was push the glass of orange juice toward the bassist, his eyebrows slightly raised in a question. John sighed, but accepted it, sipping the juice slowly, privately amazed that the enter table hadn’t been knocked over during the arguments. 

“Do you really study astronomy?” John asked suddenly, not sure how to begin this conversation. Brian looked surprised at the question, but smiled.

“Yeah, it’s all true. The science really is amazing.”

“Even for you.”

“Even for me.” Brian agreed.

“Do you know the future?” Brian raised an eyebrow at the question, but shook his head. “So its all new for you,” John mussed.

“It is. And we understand that this is all new for you, and a shock.”

“A shock.” John closed his eyes for a moment. “I suppose that’s one word for it.” He could hear Brian sigh, but there was really nothing he could say to reply to that. 

“We’re really sorry, John, that we scared you. We never should have started arguing in front of you like that.”

John shrugged slightly, opening his eyes again. “I did my fair share of arguing.”

“It was justified.”

“Glad you agree.” He was feeling rather detached and was grateful for it. He needed his objective mind to take over; it was the best way to handle it all. There was a long peaceful silence while John tried to sort through all his new knowledge; his new world.

“How old are you?” John asked, deciding to try with some hopeful facts.

“Honestly? Its hard to explain. I first took human form during the ancient Egyptian times, but I existed before then. But our plane of existence is different, its not always linear. Taking human forms is the best way to tell time.”

“Why would you do so? Take human forms, I mean?” John couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

Brian’s lips twitched a little. “Because eternity is boring?” he ventured. “That’s what Roger always says.”

“So you two really have known each other…” John trailed off, his voice a question.

“For as long as I can remember,” Brian admitted. 

“Shit. How do you handle that?” John mussed, honestly shocked, and Brian laughed in true delight. 

“Damned if I know.”

Ah, speaking of which….. “You’re not demons?” John said cautiously, his voice again a question more than a statement.

“No,” Brian said firmly. “We don’t come from Hell, we are of the Earth, John, I swear. Just much older and immortal beings from this Earth. Spirits really is the best word, I think.”

John pounded the words for a minute. “You said Freddie is different.”

Brian sighed. “In that he is older and more powerful, yes. But John, Freddie truly is *our* Freddie…..do you really think he is evil in any way?”

“He seemed ready to kill those men,” John argued, shivering as he remembered that moment. 

“Because they hurt you. I would have threatened them as well. As would Roger; you’ve seen him get into fights before. It’s nothing new, believe me. He lives for fights, always has.”

A vague image of Roger as a caveman with a club flashed across John’s mind, and he had to snort in laughter. “He’s always had that temper, and you stayed friends?” Brian nodded, grinning. “Damn.”

There was another long silence, but this was more comfortable as John continued to process and try to accept this new knowledge. Brian was quiet as well, just letting John think. Eventually, John found himself nearly nodding off; he had slept little the previous night and the fights from the morning had exhausted what little energy he had to spare.

“Hey, why don’t you go lay down for a bit?” Brian suggested. He held his hands up, cleaning trying to show that he wasn’t influencing John in any manner. “Maybe take a nap? We can talk more later, but right now, I think you should get some rest.”

John considered that and then reluctantly nodded. His head ached from pains both mental and physical. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he admitted reluctantly. “I need some time to….think.”

“I understand. We all do,” Brian said, and John tried to smile at the earnest tone. Maybe he was stupid or brainwashed or something in-between, but he believed in his three friends. 

His friends.

“Go lay down,” Brian said, standing and gesturing for John to do the same. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”

“Okay.” John did as suggested and slowly made his way upstairs. Once in his bedroom, he idly went to the French doors and to his faint surprise they now opened to his touch. He went out on the balcony for a moment, looking at nothing and everything, trying to sort his thoughts.

“John?” He turned to see Roger in the doorway to the bedroom, nervously shuffling his feet. John cautiously stepped back into the bedroom and once closer he could see that Roger had been crying. The drummer’s blue eyes were swollen and red from tears, not anger.

“I am so sorry I scared you,” Roger said, his voice tight with emotion. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But I meant what I said about you being our bassist, about being family. That’s the truth, I swear. Please believe me; we would never hurt you, and we picked you to be the bassist because you are the best. That’s not a lie.”

John tilted his head a little, nodding. No matter what he was, Roger had always been a terrible liar. “I believe you, Rog.”

Blue eye lit up in relief. “I have something for you,” Roger said. He went to the other bedroom across the hall and quickly came back carrying John’s favorite acoustic bass. “We’ve all agreed to give you all the privacy and time you need,” Roger explained hurriedly. “We won’t bother you. But I thought you might want this.” He was careful to not touch John as he handed over the guitar.

John swallowed hard, his hands gratefully taking the instrument. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Roger nodded, smiling in relief. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I…hope to see you later, okay?” John nodded back, then he paused.

“Is Freddie….here?”

Roger’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, want me to go get him for you?”

“Please.” John was rather terrified but he really needed to see Freddie. A few moments later Freddie came up the stairs. He looked and acted just like the Freddie that John had known for the past six years. Some might think he had a guarded expression, or an act, but John knew it was the look when Freddie was being totally open and honest. There was no act behind those eyes.

Other than what he really was, of course.

“Hi,” Freddie said, and John couldn’t keep the fondness from blooming in his heart. This was the Freddie who had taken the teenager under his wing and guarded him.

“I need to…thank you,” John said, nervously, but honestly. “Thank you for…stopping those men back at the venue.” He really didn’t want to think more about his attack, and Freddie seemed to immediately understand. 

“I am so sorry it happened,” the older being said softly, guilt clear in his expression. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have protected you better. I promised to do that when you joined Queen.”

John thought about all the times Freddie had physically shielded John during concerts, interviews, countless other occasions. “You have protected me,” he said slowly. “Including from the truth.” He held up a hand. “We are going to have a very long, serious, talk later,” he warned.

Freddie nodded. “You deserve a lot of answers,” he said simply.

John nodded and politely closed the door. A few minutes later, he was sound asleep on the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Three

Dinner was rather silent, which was strange for the group. John felt all eyes on him, and noted how the other three were being careful to keep a safe distance from him. Freddie especially looked rather nervous, his expression what John thought seemed like guilt. He had indeed rather terrified the bassist, but John had had enough time to think and felt that he was prepared for a serious discussion.

Hopefully with no arguing, but this was Queen, after all. John figured the chances of no arguments was absolutely zero. He was just hoping for no more panic attacks. It was getting embarrassing; he was supposed to be the calm, quiet one in the band. But in his defense, this was a lot to process.

“I feel rather crazy for believing you,” John finally said, breaking the unnatural quiet. “But, obviously, I do.”

The other three nodded in understanding. “I can’t image how hard it is to accept all this,” Brian said softly. 

“And of course if I were to tell anyone, they would think I’m crazy and likely cart me away,” John continued flatly. “So you all better understand that I am backed into a corner here.”

Roger winced. “Please don’t feel that way, Deaky. You’re family.” John narrowed his eyes.

“Am I? Because right now I rather feel like the family human pet.” 

Freddie made a sharp noise. “You are our friend and family. An equal member of Queen.”

“Really? If there are as many spirit folk as you say, you couldn’t find one bass player?” The others exchanged glances. “Don’t lie to me anymore,” John warned. “If you expect me to accept any of this, to not have a fucking mental breakdown right in front of you, then you better be honest.”

“When we take human form,” Brian said carefully, “we take it seriously. We live the life. Like Roger said earlier, we are who and what we appear to be. We wanted to form a band, music has always been a part of our existence. And we did go through seven other bassists before you. We picked you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were the best, damn it,” Roger said, somehow keeping his tone even. John could tell he was trying to control his temper.

Brian held up a hand. “What would you have us do, Deaky?”

“I don’t know!” John closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself, and then reopened them. “You said you don’t tend to interfere in human lives. Maybe you should have never picked me, just let me be. Let me have lived my puny human life without your damn interference.”

“It’s not that simple--” Roger started, but Brian cut him off.

“No,” the guitarist said sharply. John saw how Freddie visibly tensed, and John was reminded of what had occurred that morning.

“What were Roger and Freddie arguing about?” John demanded. “Earlier, when you…disappeared, or whatever it was you did.”

Freddie starred at the table. “I was upset that you found out the way you did.” He looked clearly upset now. “I didn’t handle it well, Deaky, and I am so sorry. Yesterday I should have also done things differently. I scared you at the venue and then just added to it yesterday. I insisted on being here with you; I thought it would be easier if you were dealing with just one of us at a time, but I was an idiot for acting so….possessive.”

“You were a jackass,” Roger muttered. “Fucking ‘claiming’ him talk.”

“Roger,” Brian warned.

“No,” John said sharply. “Let him talk. What the fuck was that about? And I know there’s more you’re not telling me.” He pointed at Roger. “You said what if I was….something. If I am what Freddie thinks I am. What the Hell do you mean?” He turned his gaze to Freddie. “I know what I heard. Tell me the truth, damn it!”

The singer got up from the table, his dark eyes suddenly stormy. For a moment John thought he was going to walk away, but Freddie started pacing. “We’ve talked a lot about how to tell you the truth, when to tell you. Like I said, we never wanted you to have to find out in a way that scared you.”

“Well that took the piss, didn’t it?” John snorted. “So you were going to tell me?”

Freddie nodded. “That was our plan, yes.”

“I swear it, Deaky, we were going to tell you,” Brian said, so earnestly that John was inclined to believe him. “We just didn’t know how, or when. We usually don’t ever reveal ourselves to humans, so it was new for all of us. But we knew from the beginning that we would tell you.”

“Tell you everything,” Roger said, looking pointedly at Freddie and Brian. “Tell you all the truth.” Freddie made that odd noise again, almost like a growl, and John bit his lip. He wasn’t exactly afraid of Freddie anymore, but this was already getting difficult.

“All the truth?” John repeated. “Because I know there’s more.” He rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation. “What the fuck else can it possibly be?”

Brian stood up. “Why don’t we all go outside?” he said. No one was eating anything, and John idly wondered if they even needed to eat. “Roger, Freddie - go have your cigarettes, and try to calm down. John and I will be there in a minute.”

After a moment, Freddie and Roger did as they were told, but John could still feel the tension. He clenched his fists, wondering just how much more he could take.

“Hey,” Brian had sat back down next to John at the table, close, but still not touching him. “It’s alright, take a deep breath, everything is okay.”

“Is it?” John looked at him, his eyes wide. “What the fuck, Brian? What else is there?”

Brian seemed to consider for a moment, and then slowly held out his hand. “Oh, fuck no,” John said, flinching away.

“Deaky,” Brian looked as serious as John had ever seen him. “I am not going to make you do anything, or interfere with your thoughts or words. Just help keep you…..grounded.”

“Grounded? I feel like I’m going to have a damn heart attack,” John snapped. “And obviously there is something in the ‘truth’ that makes you think I’m going to have a heart attack or stroke or some shit.”

Brian shook his head. “I agree with Roger; you deserve to know everything now. And considering what has happened in the past 48 hours, knowing how difficult it’s been to take all this in, I want to help a friend. Is that so bad? To be there for you?”

48 hours. Seriously, his entire view of reality and the world had changed in just two days? It was hard to take in.

“You’re just worried you can’t find another bassist,” John mumbled, not knowing what to do.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Yes, exactly,” he said dryly. He tilted his head and smiled a little. “Please?” he asked. “Everything is going to okay, Deaky. I just want to help you. You can let go anytime, I won’t hold onto you if you really don’t want me to. But I think it would be…helpful.”

It felt kind of funny, taking Brian’s hand, but as he did it, John thought back to all the times Brian had hugged him, or lightly touched his shoulder or back before a performance. He had obviously been helping him all along.

“Am I that much of a pathetic case?” John wondered aloud.

“No,” Brian said firmly. “You are one of the strongest people I know. I, however, am a worry-wort and have been listening to Freddie and Roger scream at each other for two days straight. You may need to hold me back from knocking their damn heads together.” He winked. “Guitarists, united, remember?”

John had to smile at their private joke. “Guitarists united,” he agreed shakily.

“And remember,” Brian continued seriously. “You are our little brother, Deaky, we would never hurt you. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Little brother? I’m thinking this is the ultimate definition of baby brother,” John said, unable to keep a bit of snark out of his voice, but trying to joke as best he could. “I’m 25 years old; you’re what……25,000 years old?”

Brian smiled as they stood. “Um….more or less,” he agreed.

Shit.

He felt a little foolish clutching Brian’s hand, but didn’t object as the taller being led the way out onto the patio. Freddie and Roger were pacing out in the garden area, smoking and obviously arguing, even though it was silent. John let Brian get him settled in a chair, and then Brian sat protectively beside him. As promised, Brian angled his hand so John was the one clasping his hand, and John could let go at any time. He took a deep breath and nodded. At some signal, the other two joined them and they were all seated at the outside table. There was a long moment of silence and John raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Freddie spoke first. “Roger and Brian told you that I am a little bit different from them. I’m older, a touch more powerful, and powerful in different ways,” he began slowly. “I do tend to….interfere…more with human lives than they do. With all lives, actually. It’s one of my powers; to influence.”

“Like record producers,” John nodded.

There was a faint blush. “Only at the very start. And only once. And usually it doesn’t have long-term consequences or be part of a grand plan; I can’t see the future. It’s just hunches, I guess is the best word. I put a little word in someone’s ear. Things like that.”

“He convinced Christopher Columbus that the world was round,” Roger said dryly. 

“The Hell you did,” John murmured, not having any idea how to respond to that bit of information. Freddie shrugged defensively.

“He was 95% convinced already on his own. I just gave him some confidence.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I can also see, or recognize, magical folk more easily than some others can.” Freddie hesitated and looked to Roger.

“We are immortal, but there are some magical folk that are mortal. And some of these mortal beings can have children with humans. So there are some people who,” Roger paused, thinking how to phrase it, “they don’t know it, but they have magical ancestry. They are not completely ‘human’.”

John didn’t like where this was going. Without fulling realizing it, he clutched Brian’s hand, and felt long fingers reassuringly cover his, keeping him calm. “And you are telling me this because…” he trailed off, eying Freddie and Roger warily.

“You are one of them, John,” Freddie said simply, his dark eyes looking at the bassist calmly. “You have magical ancestry. Actually, two.”

John drew in a sharp breath. “What do you mean, two?”

“Somewhere in your ancestry, there are not one, but two, magical folk,” Freddie said, his voice soft. “I honestly don’t know exactly what either of them were, but I am guessing one was a witch. A very powerful one. And no, I don’t know *where* in your ancestry; grandparents, great-grandparents, whatever; I truly don’t know. But you, Deaky, are the result of two very special and rare heritages coming together in one person. Both your mother and your father come from lines with magical folk. And when you were born, the unique combination you inherited has made you….well, unique.”

John found himself looking at Brian for confirmation, and the guitarist nodded, squeezing John’s hand. 

“It’s nothing to be afraid of, no more than you should be afraid of us,” Roger said hurriedly. “You are just not….completely human. Mostly, yes, but not completely. But just like we are what we appear to be, so are you. You are a good, honest, bloke, truly gifted, and we consider you to be family.”

“You saw it,” John breathed, looking at Freddie. “When I auditioned for Queen.”

The older being nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “Now, mind you, if you had been a bloody awful bassist or not fit into the band, then it would have gone no further. But you are an amazing bassist, and you did fit perfectly into the band. And yes, part of it was because of what you are. Is that so bad?” Freddie looked at John with a pleading expression in his eyes. “You really are the closest we have to a little brother, Deaky. You really are family to us.”

“Deaky,” Brian’s voice made John turn to him. “This is the full and complete truth. Everything. We would have picked you as our bassist even without Freddie sensing your heritage. But don’t you see? This makes it even more perfect; more meant to be. We wanted you as our bassist before Freddie said a word about your ancestry.”

“Please believe us, mate,” Roger pleaded, his blue eyes wide. “You asked us earlier why we interfered with your life, why we picked you. You really are the perfect piece of the puzzle. We wouldn’t be the same without you. You are what makes us a family.”

John was just focusing on breathing, clutching Brian’s hand. “You said….magical folk. That one was a witch. Evil…?” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“No!” Freddie said firmly. “There is not one trace of evil in you, John. You come from nothing but good and bright. Forget that crap I let you say yesterday; neither you nor an ancestor let any Hell demon lay claim to your soul. There is nothing dark inside you. You are from the Earth even more than we are and nothing evil has touched you.” Freddie leaned forward. “You are *our* touchstone, Deaky, the one we measure ourselves against. You are what is good and true in this world.”

“Deaky,” John looked over at Brian again, his eyes wide. “This is the whole truth. We know you need to accept not just us, but you. But you have not changed, John. You are still what you always have been, and always will be. A good, honest, person, with a pure soul. Nothing can change that,” Brian said firmly.

John concentrated on just breathing, everything else far too complicated at the moment. His life, his family, his future, flashed before him. Intertwined with all this….

“So what am I?” he asked finally. 

Freddie looked at his hands nervously. “You have some gifts, which I honestly cannot see fully yet. I think you will grow into them. I do know one of them is your music, your perfect fit with the band. Maybe it’s some mental acceptance of being with us. I don’t know. But you are good and honest, and mortal. Our mortal, at the risk of sounding possessive. 

John closed his eyes, just trying to just continue his breathing, gripping Brian’s hand. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes again, his three bandmates….his brothers….were huddled around him, and there was really nothing different in their behavior than there had been two days before. Before he knew.

Before he knew everything.

But what really had changed?

He was still John Richard Deacon. He was still the bassist for Queen. He still had three honorary older brothers. Much older, granted, but still, brothers.

No matter what they all were.

“I think,” John finally said, “I think I need….a drink.”

There was a rush of wind, and Freddie and Roger were suddenly dumping the contents of the finest bar in the world in the table in front of them. “What do you fancy, mate?” Roger asked eagerly.

John just blinked, adding another magic power, or ability, or whatever it was to his growing list of what his brothers could do. Damn, this was going to take some getting used to. 

John looked over at Brian, still keeping a grip on his hand. “Can you prevent alcohol poisoning?” he asked, very seriously. Brian’s eyes widened a little, but then he grinned and nodded. “In that case,” John looked back at his other brothers. “Then I think I deserve a shot of everything.”

It turned out to not be quite a shot of everything, despite John’s intentions and Roger’s assistance, and Brian, the bastard, made John feel the effects of a monster hangover for at least 10 minutes before curing it the next morning. But John stored away some very interesting information as they drank and talked that night, sharing stories about Freddie’s interference in a minor war or two, Brian having a serious crush on Leonardo da Vinci, and Roger going ‘a Vikining’. 

Good to know. John was always on the lookout for blackmail material. 

****************************************************  
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Part Four

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses from that point on. And why should it be? That wasn’t life. Life was ups and downs, sometimes being stuck in a slump. But it was always believing in yourself, having courage and determination.

And believing in your family and friends. No matter what they were.

They fought; oh, how they fought. Mostly about music, but every now and then something else crept into it, and that was part of life as well. When your family was work and your work was family, they went through it all together. Arguments, apologies, and collaborations. It was all part of their lives.

It was John coming to accept his new idea of normal, of accepting his brothers for what they were. It was John growing into his powers, which Freddie couldn’t or wouldn’t predict in advance. Roger maintained that his greatest power was stubbornness; Brian claimed it was contract negotiating. Freddie just smiled and said they would know soon.

One afternoon in the studio, a few months after ‘the discovery’ as John had come to label the time when he had learned the truth about his brothers, John glanced over at Roger in mild disgust. “God, Roger, I really don’t think we all need to know exactly how it went with your date last night. Spare us some details, would you?”

The other three blinked at John. “What do you mean?” Roger said. “I didn’t say a word!”

“What?” John looked at Roger. “But I just heard you say—“

“He didn’t say anything,” Brian interrupted. “It’s been total silence for the past few minutes, believe it or not.”

“I was thinking about last night, yeah, but I know I didn’t say anything out loud!” Roger protested. “I’m a gentleman!”

They all looked at each other. “John, darling,” Freddie said gleefully, clapping his hands. “What am I thinking right now?”

John starred at the singer. “That…it’s…about….damn…time…Oh shit! I can read your mind? What the Hell?”

Freddie was about doubled over in laughter. “You’ll learn how to control it, dear,” he promised. “And I suspect it will only happen occasionally. It’s more empathic abilities, to know strong emotions.” John glanced at Roger again, and promptly blushed to the tips of his ears. Roger, damn him, just smirked, now looking intently at their youngest brother as if he was trying to broadcast something.

“Shut up,” John huffed, throwing a piece of sheet music at the drummer. “Get out of here with your filthy mind.”

“Oh, but I’m just getting started,” Roger said, standing up, staring to teasingly stalk John. “Right now I’m thinking about the time when—“ John ran out of the studio, hands over his ears, and Roger chased after him. Brian ran after them and Freddie joined when he stopped laughing. They ended up play fighting in the grassy area by the parking lot, all of them laughing, and John telling Roger and Freddie to wash their minds out with soap. 

John’s abilities finally settled into a more or less a lie detector status, and he got his revenge when he could and did catch Roger, Freddie, and sometimes even Brian in a lie. “Payback,” he shrugged when Roger bitched after John called him out on lying to get out of a press conference. 

“Oh yeah, want to know what I did last Monday night?” Roger leered. 

“I know that you take human form primary so you can shag,” John countered.

Roger snickered. “Once you been with a human, it’s hard to go back,” he admitted. John threatened to break all of Roger’s drum sticks, and bemoaned that he was surrounded by immortal perverts. 

Their life was about accepting that despite his abilities and heritage, John was mortal. He didn’t worry about it; in fact, he was rather relieved. He didn’t want to live forever. But he worried for his brothers. He drew little bits out of them from time to time, about loves and pasts lost, and he felt more regret than they did.

“It will all be alright,” was all Freddie would say, with a smile. “You don’t need to worry about us, Deaky. Live this life you have, and make the most of it.”

It was Freddie who actually introduced John to the woman who became his wife, at a birthday party John’s parents had in honor of his 27th birthday. They had invited most of the neighborhood and it was there that Freddie came up to John with an old friend that John hadn’t seen since they were children.

“Deaky!” Freddie practically screeched. “How dare you keep this lovely treasure secret from us? Veronica, you are far, far too good for him, but this is his birthday, so have some pity on the boy, please. Deaky, you are an absolute fool if you don’t treat her well.” And with that, Freddie sailed off back into the crowd and John fell in love.

“Remember, we're counting on you to give us godchildren," Brian teased as the guitarist was fixing John’s bow-tie for his wedding. He had three best-men, and everybody thought it was adorable. 

“Lots of them," Roger added.

"And soon," Freddie urged, making John blush. "Children conceived on honeymoons are considered lucky. So I expect some news in a month or two, and that there will be enough children for another band."

John and Veronica did their best; six children, all of them with three amazing godfathers. 

“Promise me you’ll always be there for them,” John asked Roger very seriously, as he held his firstborn son in his arms.

“We will be. For all your descendants, until the end of time,” Roger vowed. 

“John Richard Deacon,” Freddie drawled as he helped his goddaughter learn to walk, “you are more than simply mortal, remember? You will always be there for your family as well.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You never have really explained what that means,” he pointed out.

“It’s not for me to explain, darling. You will understand one day.”

His ‘power’, or whatever it was, continued with his family. He had an uncanny ability to know when any of his children were ill, when any were troubled, and to know when they tried typical childhood white lies or pranks. Even when on tour on the other side of the world, if he concentrated, he could know exactly where his family was and what they were doing.

As they had done before, Freddie, Brian, and Roger “aged” so as to fit into the mortal timeframe. “Sometimes we just leave, it was easy in older times when we weren’t famous,” Roger remarked one day. “Just disappear. But we are here to age as you do in this life. You’re stuck with us.”

“Joy,” John snarked.

John was so proud to be there the day Freddie and Jim married. John never asked how much Jim knew. Roger and Brian also married, but of course there were no children and John never asked what their spouses knew or didn’t know. 

“You have loved before, and you will again”, John said knowingly to Brian one day. “Is that how you wrote ‘Who wants to live Forever’ in just 5 minutes?”

Brian smiled, and while it was sad, there was also fondness. “It is always worth it,” he said. “When we take human form, we accept it for good and bad and all it entails. This is part of life, of any existence.”

John ran his hand over Brian’s. At some point in the precious decades, it had become John who held Brian’s hand. “I worry for you,” he admitted.

“You don’t need to,” Brian assured him. “We are always going to be together. I can’t explain it, but I know it.”

“Just promise me that you will always make music.”

“I always have,” Brian smiled. “And Freddie as well. But I think Roger may go into cars. He wants that flying car pretty badly.” John laughed so hard that he about fell off his chair.

As John aged – as *they* aged - all John would accept was occasional magic, or whatever it was, from Brian to ease pains. Even that had to be careful as he could not be seen running about like one of his grandchildren when he was in his 70’s. He felt like he was still 25, but had to remember how to act his age.

In the end, it was Freddie who made the choice. It was time, frankly, for them to begin to die. John was 85, and Freddie was 92 by human reckoning. In typical front man fashion, Freddie “went” first.

“You will see me again, darling,” Freddie assured John.

“Dear Lord, are you going to haunt me?” John bit his fingernails, a nervous habit he had developed after a lifetime of putting up with the three immortals.

Dark eyes twinkled. “Not even one little boo when you are in the shower?”

“Not unless you want to give me a heart attack.” 

“I will try to restrain myself then.”

“Yeah, right.” John looked over at Brian and Roger. “I’m going to say it one more time; let me go when it’s my time. No intervention”.

“Agreed,” Brian promised. “But we won’t leave until you do.”

Years later, one peaceful afternoon, John laid down for a nap. And when he opened his eyes he was in the old music studio. His hair was down below his shoulders and he was 25 years old again. Freddie, Brian, and Roger were all at their instruments, looking at him eagerly.

John frowned, hands on his hips. “What is it now?”

“Remember we said you were more than mere human?” Freddie said, hugging him tightly in greeting. “How can you object to being a muse? We get to continue to make music together, influencing others now.”

John continued to scowl. “And my mortal family who have passed on?” He’d been looking forward to seeing them again. 

“You can do both. Be with them sometimes and be with us other times; just like on Earth. Plus you can see your family still on Earth. You will always be there for them,” Brian assured him. 

John just rubbed his forehead, sighing. “I’m dead, and I still have to do scheduling and tour with you fools?” he grumbled, but he picked up his bass.

“For eternity, mate,” Roger said cheerfully. “Like I’ve said before, you’re stuck with us.”

And as they started bickering about a new song, John knew there was no place in eternity that he would rather be.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this odd little story :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this odd little story :-)


End file.
